I Tried Killing 217 Christian Pilgrims On Board For Allah, But Jesus Took The Controls….
My name is Safia Ibraim and on 15th March 2024, I tried to crash a commercial airplane carrying over 200 Christian pilgrims into the Mediterranean Sea.
I wanted to kill every single one of them and die as a martyr for Allah.
But at 20,000 ft, as the plane was diving towards certain death, Jesus Christ himself appeared outside my cockpit window and took control of the aircraft.
What I’m about to share is the most terrifying and most beautiful experience of my life.
Before we begin, I need you to do something.
Write in the comments where you are watching from.
Tell me your city, your country.
Let’s connect as one family under ChriSt. What you are about to hear is not just my story.
It’s proof that Jesus is alive, that he performs miracles, and that no one is beyond his reach.
We need to pray for each other and stand together.
My name is Safia Ibraim and I’m writing this from a hidden location that I cannot reveal for my own safety.
Today is 14th January 2026 and I’m 37 years old.
Just 1 year ago, I was living a completely different life as a commercial airline pilot in Caro, Egypt.
But the person I was then fills me with horror and shame.
The thing I attempted to do haunts me every single day.
Yet, the mercy and power of Jesus Christ that stopped me and saved me is the only reason I’m alive and the only reason I have any hope.
I was born in 1988 in Caro, Egypt into a devout Muslim family.
From my earliest memories, I was taught that Islam was the only true religion and that serving Allah was the highest purpose of life.
My father was strict about religious observance.
We prayed five times daily.
We fasted during Ramadan.
We memorized verses from the Quran.
Everything in our home revolved around pleasing Allah and following Islamic law.
As I grew up, I developed a passion for flying.
I was fascinated by airplanes and dreamed of becoming a pilot.
This was unusual for a Muslim woman in Egypt where most women were expected to marry young and focus on family.
But my father surprisingly supported my ambition.
He believed that if I became a pilot, I could serve the Muslim community by transporting believers and representing Islam in a professional field.
I worked hard through school and university.
I studied aviation and completed all the necessary training and certifications.
In 2009 at age 21, I became a licensed commercial pilot.
It was one of the proudest moments of my life.
I had achieved something rare and difficult and I believed Allah had blessed me with this opportunity.
That same year, I married a man named Omar Hassan.
He was a devout Muslim like me, passionate about his faith and committed to serving Allah.
We had a good marriage at firSt. We both worked hard.
We prayed together.
We talked about having children and building a life together.
I thought we had a bright future ahead of us.
But everything changed in 2012.
3 years into our marriage.
Omar became increasingly involved with radical Islamic groups.
He spent hours online watching videos of Muslim fighters in Syria and Iraq.
He talked constantly about jihad, about the duty of Muslims to fight against the enemies of Islam, about the rewards of martyrdom and paradise.
In late 2012, Omar told me he had made a decision.
He was leaving Egypt to join Islamic fighters in Syria.
He said this was the highest service he could offer to Allah.
He said that dying in battle for Islam would guarantee him paradise with all its promised rewards.
He asked me to support his decision and to be proud that I had a husband willing to sacrifice everything for Allah.
I was devastated.
I didn’t want him to leave.
I didn’t want to lose him.
But I had been taught my entire life that jihad was noble and righteous.
How could I stand in the way of my husband serving Allah?
So I supported his decision even though my heart was breaking.
Omar left for Syria in early 2013.
For the next 12 years I remained in Egypt working as a pilot while my husband fought in a war far away.
He would send me messages whenever he had access to internet.
He described battles, talked about martyrdom, sent me verses from the Quran about fighting for Allah, and reminded me constantly of the glory and rewards awaiting those who die as martyrs.
During those 12 years, I felt increasingly inadequate and useless.
My husband was sacrificing everything, risking his life daily, fighting for Islam.
And what was I doing?
Flying planes, living a comfortable life, doing nothing significant for Allah.
I felt like a failure as a Muslim.
I desperately wanted to prove my own devotion to Allah and earn paradise just like my husband was earning it.
I prayed constantly asking Allah to show me how I could serve him in a meaningful way.
I fasted beyond what was required.
I gave money to Islamic causes, but nothing felt significant enough.
Nothing felt like the kind of sacrifice that would guarantee paradise.
Then in early March 2024, something happened that I believed was an answer to my prayers.
I was reviewing my flight schedule for the month when I saw an assignment for 15th March.
It was a charter flight from Tel Aviv, Israel to Rome, Italy.
The passenger manifest showed over 200 people.
And when I looked at the details, I saw that they were all Christian pilgrims.
They had been visiting holy sites in Jerusalem and were now traveling to Rome to see the Vatican and other Christian locations.
When I saw this, something dark awakened inside me.
I stared at that manifest at all those Christian names and I felt hatred rise up in my cheSt. These were people who rejected Islam.
They worshiped Jesus as if he were God, which to me was the worst possible blasphemy.
They were infidels, enemies of Allah.
And suddenly an idea formed in my mind that I believed was inspiration from Allah himself.
What if I crashed the plane?
What if I killed all these Christians and died in the process?
Wouldn’t that be the ultimate service to Allah?
Wouldn’t that guarantee my entrance into paradise just as surely as my husband’s fighting guaranteed his?
The more I thought about it, the more convinced I became that this was my opportunity.
Allah had given me this assignment for a reason.
He was calling me to jihad in my own way.
Using the skills and position he had given me, I would become a martyr.
I would be remembered.
My husband would be proud.
And most importantly, I would finally earn paradise.
For the next 10 days, I prepared myself spiritually for what I plan to do.
I prayed to Allah for hours every day, asking him to accept my sacrifice.
I read passages from the Quran about fighting against infidels.
I convinced myself that what I was planning was righteous and good.
I also contacted Omar through our encrypted messaging app.
I told him about my plan to crash the plane and kill all the Christians on board.
I expected him to be shocked or to try to stop me, but his response filled me with pride and determination.
He wrote back immediately telling me how proud he was of me.
He said I would finally be doing something worthy, something that would earn me a place in paradise beside him.
He told me that killing infidels, especially Christians, was one of the highest forms of worship.
He sent me verses from the Quran and Hadits about jihad.
He encouraged me to be brave and to trust that Allah would reward me.
In his final message before the flight, he wrote just a words in all capital letters.
Allah Akbar, God is greateSt. I responded with the same words.
Then I turned off my phone and prepared for what I believed would be my final day on earth before entering paradise.
The night before the flight, 14th March, I spent hours in prayer.
I thanked Allah for the opportunity he had given me.
I asked him to guide the plane into the sea quickly so the passengers wouldn’t suffer too long.
I asked him to receive my soul immediately into paradise.
I placed my Quran in my flight bag so it would be with me.
I felt peaceful and determined.
On the morning of 15th March 2024, I woke up early and got ready for work.
I wore my pilot uniform.
I said my morning prayers.
I looked at myself in the mirror and told myself that by the end of this day, I would be dead but in paradise.
I felt no fear.
I felt only purpose.
I arrived at the airport and went through all the normal pre-flight procedures.
My co-pilot for this flight was a man named Tariq, also a Muslim.
He knew nothing about my plan.
I acted completely normal, going through checklists, checking weather reports, reviewing flight plans.
No one suspected anything.
Then the passengers began boarding.
This was the first time I actually saw them as real people rather than just names on a manifeSt. There were elderly couples holding hands.
There were young families with small children.
There were teenagers in groups, laughing and excited.
There were middle-aged men and women carrying Bibles and wearing crosses around their necks.
As I watched them through the cockpit door, I felt contempt.
These people were worshiping a false god.
They were living in deception.
They deserved what was coming to them.
I hardened my heart against any feelings of compassion or doubt.
I reminded myself that I was doing Allah’s will.
Once all 217 passengers were boarded and seated, we completed the final checks and received clearance for takeoff.
At exactly 10:47 a.m. local time, we lifted off from Tel Aviv and began climbing into the sky.
The flight to Rome was scheduled to take approximately 3 hours.
For the first hour, everything was normal.
We reached our cruising altitude of 35,000 ft.
The weather was clear.
The passengers were settled.
Tarik and I made small talk about routine things.
He had no idea what I was planning.
I waited for the right moment.
We were flying over the Mediterranean Sea, far from any land, when I decided it was time.
I told Tariq I needed to use the restroom and asked him to take over for a moment.
When he relaxed and focused on the controls, I made my move.
I suddenly grabbed the controls back and began shutting down systems.
I cut fuel to one of the engines.
I disabled the autopilot.
I turned off several safety systems.
Taric immediately realized something was wrong and tried to stop me.
But I was prepared.
I pushed him away forcefully and because I was the senior pilot, I had authority over the aircraft.
Then I did something that still makes me sick to remember.
I picked up the intercom microphone and spoke to all the passengers.
I told them in a mocking voice that we were going to crash.
I told them to pray to their Jesus if they thought he could save them.
I told them they were about to die for rejecting Islam.
The cabin erupted in panic.
I could hear screaming through the cockpit door.
Children were crying.
People were shouting.
But I felt nothing.
I had shut down my heart completely.
I forced the plane into a steep dive.
The nose dropped sharply.
The altimeter began spinning downward rapidly.
35,000 ft.
30,000 28,000 25,000.
We were plummeting toward the Mediterranean Sea at terrifying speed.
Tariq was fighting me, trying to pull the controls up, shouting at me to stop.
But I was stronger in that moment, fueled by my conviction that I was doing Allah’s will, I kept pushing the nose down, watching the altitude drop, knowing that in just seconds we would hit the water and everyone would die.
23,000 ft, 20,000, 18,000.
The ocean was getting closer.
The plane was shaking violently.
Alarms were screaming.
Taric was screaming.
The passengers were screaming.
Death was seconds away.
And then something impossible happened.
The plane suddenly stabilized by itself.
The controls pulled upward against my hands with a force I couldn’t resiSt. The engine I had shut down rode back to life on its own without anyone touching any switches.
The nose began lifting.
The dive stopped.
We started climbing back up.
I fought against it with all my strength, trying to push the controls back down, but it was like fighting against an invisible wall.
The plane wouldn’t respond to me anymore.
It was as if someone else was flying it.
All the alarms stopped.
The shaking stopped.
The plane leveled out perfectly and began climbing smoothly back to cruising altitude.
Tarik and I both sat there in shock, our hands still on the controls, but the controls moving by themselves.
Then I looked to my left out the cockpit window, and what I saw made my blood run cold and made me forget how to breathe.
There was a man standing outside the window at 20,000 ft in the air, standing in the empty sky as if he was standing on solid ground.
He was radiant, glowing with a light that didn’t come from the sun.
His presence was overwhelming, both terrifying and somehow beautiful at the same time.
His eyes looked directly at me, piercing through the window, through the cockpit, straight into my soul.
Those eyes saw everything about me, all my hatred, all my evil, all my plans.
Nothing was hidden from him.
And then he spoke, not with an audible voice, but directly to my heart, directly to my mind.
I heard him clearly even though his lips didn’t move.
He told me that the passengers had called on his name.
He said they prayed to him and he heard them.
He said he had saved them from my evil plan.
Then he said words I will never forget as long as I live.
He said, “I am the way, the truth, and the life.”
In that instant, I knew exactly who he was.
This was Jesus ChriSt. The one I had been taught was just a prophet.
The one I had been told was not divine.
The one whose followers I had just tried to murder.
He was standing in the sky at 20,000 ft.
And he had just taken control of my airplane with his own hands.
I wanted to scream, but no sound came out.
I wanted to look away, but I couldn’t.
I was frozen staring at him knowing that I was looking at God himself and that he had just stopped me from committing mass murder.
Then he disappeared.
One moment he was there, the next moment he was gone, but the plane continued flying smoothly, heading back to a cruising altitude as if being piloted by an expert.
Taric was staring at me with wide eyes, clearly shaken, but not having seen what I had seen.
He asked me what had just happened.
I couldn’t answer.
I couldn’t speak.
My entire body was trembling.
The rest of the flight is a blur in my memory.
The plane flew itself to Rome.
When we began the approach for landing, I tried one final time to crash during the descent to finish what I had started.
But again, the controls moved by themselves.
The landing gear deployed perfectly.
The speed adjusted automatically.
The plane touched down on the runway as smoothly as if the best pilot in the world were flying it.
Jesus himself had been flying the plane.
I knew it.
And he had saved every single person on board despite my attempts to kill them.
As soon as we landed and parked at the gate, emergency crews surrounded the aircraft.
The passengers had reported my announcement over the intercom.
Air traffic control had monitored our erratic flight path and dive.
Everyone knew something had gone terribly wrong.
I was immediately removed from the cockpit by security.
Taric was questioned separately.
Investigators from multiple agencies descended on the scene.
They questioned me for hours about what had happened.
They wanted to know if it was a technical malfunction, a medical emergency, or something intentional.
I lied.
I told them it was mechanical failure and instrument errors.
I said I had tried to save the plane, but the controls weren’t responding properly.
I blamed everything on technical problems, not on my own evil intentions.
The investigators then examined every single system on that aircraft.
They spent days analyzing it.
They checked the engines, the fuel systems, the controls, the electronics, everything.
They were looking for the malfunction that had caused our dive and miraculous recovery.
They found nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
Every system was functioning perfectly.
There was no mechanical explanation for what had happened.
The plane was completely airworthy.
According to all their tests and examinations, nothing had been wrong with the aircraft.
The airline suspended me immediately pending further investigation, but without proof that I had intentionally tried to crash the plane and without any witnesses besides Taric, who couldn’t explain what happened either, they eventually let me go.
They terminated my employment and revoked my pilot’s license, but they couldn’t prosecute me because they couldn’t prove intent.
I went home to my apartment in Caro, and that’s when the real torment began.
I couldn’t sleep that first night.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Jesus’ face.
I saw his eyes looking at me.
I heard his voice speaking to my heart.
I saw the plane diving toward death and then pulling up by itself.
I saw my hands on controls that wouldn’t respond to me because someone else was controlling them.
I tried to pray to Allah to ask him why he had let my plan fail, but the prayers felt empty.
The words died in my throat.
Something had broken inside me, and I couldn’t go back to who I had been before.
Night after night for weeks, I experienced dreams and visions that I couldn’t escape.
Jesus appeared to me repeatedly.
Sometimes he showed me the passengers on the plane, the families with children, the elderly couples, the young people.
He showed me how close they had come to death because of my hatred.
He showed me their terror and their prayers.
Other times, he showed me my own heart.
He revealed the darkness that had been growing inside me for years.
He showed me how my devotion to Islam had led me to a place where I was willing to murder hundreds of innocent people, including children, and call it worship.
He showed me that what I thought was righteousness was actually evil.
But he also showed me something else.
He showed me that he had died for me.
He showed me the cross.
He showed me his suffering.
And he told me that he had done all of that to pay for my sins, including the terrible sin I had just attempted.
He told me that he had risen from the dead.
He told me that he was offering me forgiveness and eternal life if I would turn to him.
I fought against it.
I tried to read the Quran more.
I tried to pray to Allah more fervently.
I tried to convince myself that what I had seen was a hallucination or a trick of Satan, but I couldn’t deny the truth.
Jesus had physically appeared to me.
He had literally stopped my hands and flown the airplane himself.
217 people were alive because he had intervened for 6 weeks after that flight.
I wrestled with the truth.
I was terrified of what accepting Jesus would mean.
I would lose everything.
My family would disown me.
My community would reject me.
According to Islamic law, I deserved death for apostasy.
But I couldn’t escape the reality of what had happened and what Jesus was showing me.
Finally, in late April 2024, I surrendered.
I was alone in my apartment late at night and I fell on my knees on the floor with tears streaming down my face.
I cried out to Jesus.
I confessed all my sins.
I told him I was sorry for trying to kill his followers.
I told him I was sorry for hating him and rejecting him for so many years.
I acknowledged that he is the son of God, that he died for me and rose again and that he alone is the way to salvation.
I asked him to forgive me and to save me.
And the moment I prayed that prayer with sincere faith, something incredible happened.
It felt like a massive weight lifted off my cheSt. The burden of guilt that had been crushing me for weeks suddenly disappeared.
Peace flooded into my heart.
Genuine peace that I had never experienced in all my years of following Islam.
I knew I was forgiven.
I knew I was saved.
I knew I belonged to Jesus now.
But my newfound faith and peace would quickly be tested by the most severe persecution I could imagine.
About one week after my conversion, I received a message from Omar through our encrypted app.
He had been trying to contact me for weeks, demanding to know what had happened with my plan.
Why was I still alive?
Why were the news reports saying the plane had landed safely?
Why had I failed in my mission for Allah?
I couldn’t lie to him anymore.
So, I told him everything.
I told him about Jesus appearing outside the cockpit window.
I told him about the plane flying itself.
I told him about the dreams and visions I had experienced and I told him that I had given my life to Jesus Christ and I now believed he is the true God.
Omar’s response was immediate and filled with rage.
He called me a traitor to Islam and to him personally.
He said I was an apostate who deserved death according to Islamic law.
He told me he would inform his jihadist network about my conversion and that they would hunt me down and execute me as a warning to any other Muslims who might consider leaving Islam.
Then he cut off all communication with me forever.
My own husband, the man I had been married to for 15 years, declared me his enemy and promised that I would be killed.
Within just a few days, the threats began pouring in.
Someone from my local mosque had seen me leaving a church where I had gone to meet with other believers.
Word spread rapidly through the Muslim community in Caro.
I started receiving phone calls with death threats.
I received text messages telling me I would be killed publicly.
People threw rocks through the windows of my apartment with threatening notes attached.
One morning I went outside to find my car with all four tires slashed and warnings prepainted on the sides telling me I was a dead woman.
People I had known for years, neighbors and acquaintances now looked at me with hatred.
Some told me to my face that I deserve to die for leaving Islam.
I went to the police but they were completely unsympathetic.
Egypt does not protect Muslim converts to Christianity.
In fact, many police officers themselves believe apostasy deserves death.
They told me there was nothing they could do and suggested I return to Islam if I wanted the threats to stop.
The airline officially terminated my employment after their investigation concluded.
My pilot’s license was permanently revoked.
I lost my career, my income, everything I had worked for all those years.
But the worst loss was my family.
My parents and my siblings completely cut off all contact with me.
My mother wept and told me I had brought shame to the family.
My father declared that I was no longer his daughter.
My brother said they would not stop anyone who tried to kill me because I deserved death according to Islamic teaching.
All my Muslim friends abandoned me.
People I had known since childhood, people I had worked with, people I had prayed with at the mosque.
All of them turned their backs on me.
Some called me a traitor.
Others said I had become unclean and they couldn’t associate with me anymore.
I was completely alone.
I had no income, no family support, no friends from my former life.
The threats continued daily.
I was terrified to leave my apartment.
I couldn’t sleep at night because I feared someone would break in and kill me.
The Christian believers I had connected with did their best to help me.
They brought me food and supplies.
They prayed with me and encouraged me.
They reminded me that Jesus was with me even in this persecution.
But they were also in danger themselves by helping me because anyone who supports an apostate can also be targeted.
By early July 2024, it became clear that I could not stay in Egypt.
The threats were escalating.
Someone had discovered where I lived and was watching my apartment.
I received a message telling me that I would be killed within the week as an example to other Muslims who might think about converting.
The Underground Christian Network in Caro arranged for my escape.
They provided me with new identity documents under a different name.
They coordinated with Christians in other countries to create a route for me to flee Egypt.
On 18th July 2024, in the middle of the night, I left my apartment with only a small bag of belongings.
A Christian brother picked me up and drove me out of Caro.
We traveled through back roads to avoid checkpoints.
After several tense, we reached a location where I was transferred to another vehicle, then another, and another.
The journey took several days and was terrifying.
At every stop, I feared being discovered and sent back or killed.
But God protected me at every step.
The Christian network, believers I had never met who risked their own safety to help me, guided me out of Egypt and eventually into a country where I could practice my faith in relative safety.
I cannot tell you which country I’m in now for security reasons.
I live under a completely different name.
I have a new identity, new documents, a new life.
The person who was Safia Ibraim, Egyptian pilot, no longer exists in any official records.
That woman is gone.
Everything I was before is gone.
I left behind my home, my career, my family, my friends, my entire former life.
I will never be able to return to Egypt.
I will never see my parents or siblings again.
I will never be able to use my real name or work as a pilot.
I am permanently separated from everything and everyone I knew for the first 36 years of my life.
Even here in this new country, I must be extremely careful.
Radical Muslims consider me a legitimate target.
They believe killing me would be a righteous act.
Omar is still alive as far as I know, still fighting in Syria, and he has connections with jihadist networks around the world.
If my location were discovered, I could still be hunted down.
But despite all of this loss and fear and persecution, I have something I never had before.
I have Jesus.
I have peace with God.
I have assurance of eternal life.
I have forgiveness for the terrible things I did and plan to do.
I have purpose and hope.
I now work with Christian ministries that help Muslims who want to convert to Christianity.
I support and encourage converts who are facing persecution similar to what I experienced.
I share my testimony with others, hoping to reach Muslims who are trapped in the same darkness and hatred that once consumed me.
I describe myself as no longer being an airline pilot, but now being a pilot in the ministry of ChriSt. Instead of flying planes, I help guide people toward the truth of Jesus.
I help Muslim women especially to understand the cost of following Christ, but also to understand that he is worth losing everything.
The hardest part of my persecution, the part that still brings tears to my eyes, is thinking about the hatred that drove me to attempt mass murder.
For years, I believed I was serving God by hating Christians.
I was willing to kill hundreds of innocent people, including children, and I thought Allah would reward me for it.
The depth of that evil horrifies me now.
I think often about those 217 passengers on that flight.
They have no idea how close they came to death.
They don’t know that their pilot was deliberately trying to crash the plane and kill them all.
But Jesus knew.
He heard their prayers and he performed a physical undeniable miracle to save them.
I also carry grief for Omar.
Several months after I escaped Egypt, I learned through contacts that he was killed in fighting in Syria in October 2024.
He died believing he was earning paradise through jihad.
He died thinking he was serving Allah.
But now he knows the truth.
He’s discovered that everything we were taught was wrong.
That Jesus is the only way to God and that his violent jihad earned him nothing but judgment.
My heart breaks for him.
I pray he somehow encountered Jesus in his final moments and cried out for mercy.
Living with the memory of what I attempted to do is a daily struggle.
Even though I know Jesus has forgiven me, even though I know I am a new creation in Christ, I still wrestle with guilt and shame.
How do you come to terms with the fact that you tried to murder over 200 people?
How do you live with knowing you were willing to kill children because of your religious hatred?
The only way I survive is by clinging to the truth of the gospel.
Jesus died for sinners.
He died for people like me who committed or attempted to commit terrible evil.
His grace is sufficient even for the worst of us.
And if he can forgive me and use me, then there is hope for anyone.
The physical persecution I faced, the threats, the violence, the loss of everything, all of that was painful.
But the emotional and spiritual persecution has been just as difficult.
The isolation of losing every relationship from my former life.
The fear of being discovered and killed.
The nightmares about what I almost did.
The grief of knowing Omar died without knowing Jesus.
All of this weighs on me constantly.
But Jesus has never left me.
In my darkest moments, when I wake up in the middle of the night, terrified and weeping, he is there.
When I feel crushed by loneliness and loss, he reminds me that he is with me always.
When I struggle with guilt over my past, he reminds me that his blood covers all my sins.
When I fear for my safety, he reminds me that he appeared at 20,000 ft to save those passengers, and he can certainly protect me.
Now, I want to speak directly to anyone who might be reading or hearing this testimony, especially Muslims who are searching for truth.
I know what it’s like to be devoted to Islam.
I know what it’s like to believe with all your heart that you are serving God by following Islamic teachings.
I know the pressure to conform, the fear of being rejected by family and community, the terror of what apostasy means in Islamic law.
But I’m telling you the truth when I say that Jesus Christ is the only way to God.
He is not just a prophet.
He is the son of God.
He died on the cross for your sins and mine.
He rose from the dead.
He is alive right now.
And he wants to save you and give you eternal life.
Islam taught me to hate.
It led me to a place where I was willing to commit mass murder and call it worship.
But Jesus taught me to love.
He showed me that God is not a distant harsh judge waiting to punish us.
He is a loving father who sent his son to die for us while we were still his enemies.
You might be afraid of what following Jesus will cost you.
You should be afraid because it will cost you everything.
But I promise you, he is worth it.
Everything I lost, as painful as it was, is nothing compared to what I gained in ChriSt. A word to Christians around the world.
My dear brothers and sisters in Christ, I want to speak to you from my heart.
What I attempted to do on 15th March 2024 was evil beyond description.
But Jesus stopped me.
He performed a supernatural miracle to save his people.
This proves that he is alive, that he hears our prayers, and that he has power over everything.
The passengers on that flight prayed.
In their terror, as the plane dove toward the sea, they called on the name of Jesus, and he answered.
He appeared.
He took control.
He saved them.
Never underestimate the power of prayer.
Never doubt that Jesus hears you.
At the same time, I want you to understand the reality of persecution that millions of Christians and Christian converts face around the world.
In Egypt, in Iran, in Pakistan, in Saudi Arabia, in Afghanistan, in Somalia, in Nigeria, and in dozens of other countries, people are being threatened, beaten, imprisoned, and killed simply because they follow Jesus.
Please pray for them.
Pray for converts from Islam who lose everything when they come to ChriSt. Pray for underground churches that meet in secret.
Pray for Christian communities living under Islamic rule.
Pray for families torn apart by faith.
Pray for believers who live everyday in fear for their lives.
And pray for Muslims who are trapped in the darkness of radical ideology.
Pray that Jesus would reveal himself to them through dreams and visions as he has done for thousands of Muslims around the world.
Pray that his love would break through the hatred they’ve been taught.
Pray that they would encounter the true God who offers forgiveness and peace.
Thank you for reading my listening.
Sharing this story is dangerous for me, but I must speak.
Too many people need to know that Jesus is real.
That his power is undeniable and that his grace reaches even to people like me who attempted terrible evil.
One final thing I want you to know.
I recently learned something that brought me to tears through the Christian network.
I was able to get a message to some of the passengers who were on that flight.
I didn’t reveal my identity, but I asked them what they remembered about that day.
Several of them told me that when the plane was diving and they thought they were going to die, they prayed desperately to Jesus.
They cried out to him to save them.
And they said that in that moment, even in their terror, they felt an overwhelming sense of peace.
They said they knew Jesus was with them.
One woman told me that she saw a bright light filled the cabin during the dive.
Another man said he felt invisible hands holding him in his seat.
A child said she saw an angel outside the window.
Jesus didn’t just save them from physical death.
He revealed his presence to them in their darkest moment.
He showed them that he is real and that he cares for them.
And their testimonies about what happened that day have led others to faith in ChriSt. So even my evil plan, my attempt at mass murder was turned by God into something that brought glory to his name and salvation to souls.
This is the power of our God.
He takes even the worst evil and works it for good.
May God bless you powerfully.
Wherever you are, whatever you are facing, remember that Jesus loves you more than you can imagine.
He knows your name.
He sees your struggles.
He hears your prayers.
And he will never ever let you go.
In Jesus’ name, amen.
